Harry Potter and the Fountain of Hope
by Concordis
Summary: 8th Book in the series. Post DH. A hidden source of evil returns to challenge the trio for another year. Will they discover it before it is too late? The trio will have much to learn about their friends as they do themselves. Sparks will fly as danger and romance go hand in hand as our heroes discover their true hearts desires.
1. Chapter 1 Dream of the Red Chamber

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. My ideas. Her world.

Chapter 1 Dream of the Red Chamber

..."What if I am in Slytherin?..."Albus Severus...you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably one of the bravest man I ever knew"...The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well...

"Or so he hopes," she bemused, or maybe even she does. It was most likely a wonderful dream for him, but a predestined prophecy for her. It is now the only thing that matters, that all she can do is to hold on to him and make sure that what she had envisioned come true. She paced slowly in her room. The faded wooden floorboards creaked eerily in the night. The trees waved languidly in the winds. A strong breeze came in through the tiny window. The candlelight danced wildly in the ominous breeze. She shivered slightly and closed the old cracked window. A large spider quickly scampered away as the cobwebs are broken.

It was a familiar room; one that she has inhabited all her life. Yet, as strange as it sounds, it all seemed terribly far away. It was as if she is leading another life; one that is completely foreign. She shivered and crossed her arms around herself shielding her from the cold. Her luxurious hair gleamed brightly under golden candlelight. She looked like a vision. One comparable to an illustrious Greek goddess or an ethereal fallen angel, maybe even a dangerously alluring demon. Her dark eyes pierced the small cracked mirror above her single floral bed. She lips curved into a devious smile, pleased with her reflection. Her looks have always been above average, prettier than most girls around her age, especially her, that imperturbable mudblood. Anyways, with a bit of help from him, she looks absolutely irresistible. All the boys she met and seduced has thought so. They were all so easy to manipulate, they melted like a pygmy puff cream in her palm. They were all so willing and eager to be seduced. Her petite body and her long hair and dark alluring eyes and voluptuous lips are all irresistible to mortal (and once immortal) wizards.

Even Bellatrix, the sadistic beauty was envious of her special relationship with the dark lord. "Who would have her, when they could have me?" she bit her lips and smiled venomously. Her tongue slithered temptingly along her pink voluptuous lips. Bellatrix could never hope to have what she could with the dark lord. As if she already didn't know. She could plead her loyalty and devotion and beg for his attention all she wants. She can offer her tainted and diseased body to him, and let him use her like a trashy ragged doll over and over to appease his insatiable appetite. He doesn't love necessarily, but he loves to feel powerful, to dominate and humiliate her inferiority, to torture her with immense pleasure intermixed with overwhelming pain. To see her in such a vile state, to defile her in such a vulgar way, to reduce her to a slave begging, bruised and bleeding, barely human, much less wizard. He loves to see people at their most weakened and vulnerable state. It makes him feel all the more powerful and superior.

But really, what Bellatrix gave him cannot even compare to what she can. What is the ultimate sacrifice if you're willing to share your soul? The pretty witch smiled darkly. "She could never bond with him the way I can and already have." He was always inside of her, guiding her, leading her. When the dark lord first intruded her fragile body many years ago, she felt such a stir of dark desire of power and immortality. At once, she was addicted. Her immature and fragile mind and body was filled with coolness and confidence. Her movements are light and agile, almost like an adoring baby serpent. Her body developed curves like a serpentine in all the right places. Her movements are so fluid and smooth; she literally glides as she walks across the corridors. He made her feel powerful and strong. She made him feel alive for the first time in over a decade. Lucky for her, he hasn't tired of her the way he was of all his other servants. Unlike with Quirrell, the dark lord did not treat her as an artificial appendage. He gained entrance inside of her very existence. He molded himself into her mind and soul. He was just apart of her the way she was apart of him. Unlike with Wormtail, the Dark Lord cherished her existence. He needs her to give him a corporeal body that pathetic whimpering fool Wormtail could not. Whereas he is disgusted with Wormtail, he is charmed by her presence. She is his favorite pet, even more so than Nagini. He makes powerful evil to her soul. She is his last hope.

At first, she had tried to fight it. This foreign feeling of coolness and confidence was so unlike her old self. Whereas she was shy and meek, he was strong and collected. Whereas she was timid and fragile, he was daring and full of nerve. It was like drowning in a cauldron of honeydukes best dark chocolate; aromatic, sweet, alluring, overwhelming, with a touch of bitterness and acidity, especially if she tried to challenge his authority. The more you try to fight his control, the more addictive his power became. He grew fast inside of her like a sprouting whomping willow; stronger and stronger everyday, eviscerating her old memories and her old self. She was drowning inside his strength and power. He invaded every piece of her mind and her body. All of her memories, her feelings, and her unrequited crush...gone and forgotten. Afterall, he, Tom Riddle had been her first and only true soulmate. There can be no one else. He made sure of that.

He was as possessive of her as he would all of his horcruxes. She was valuable to him, at least her body was for the time being. Apart of her feels that she is forever enslaved to him. Her mind and body had been chained to him for a long time. He gave her brief rewards, especially when it comes to the Boy-who-lived. She was lucky as he was obsessed about him in a way that mirrored her own; although for a different purpose entirely. He was eager to learn about him, befriend him, get close to him, in such a way that Dumbledore would never notice. He made sure she stayed hidden for as long as Dumbledore was strong and powerful, watchful over Hogwarts like an annoying old night owl. Then, when the time comes, when Dumbledore was severely weakened by the cursed Gaunt family ring, when Dumbledore was too weak and too incapacitated to watch over Hogwarts, then she would strike.

She would make the boy-who-lived like any other boy she had before. She made sure he wouldn't know what hit him. She went out with other boys just to make him jealous. None of them mattered, they were merely an excuse for him to notice her. She made him want her, lust after her, dream about her, night after night. She made him desire her in a way that he had never thought about girls before. Merlin's beard, she knew about his chest monster and other...nightly exertions. She grinned wickedly. As if she didn't know what goes on in his mind. She knew what he desired was definitely not in his _chest_. After all, a boy his age, a girl with her looks. What more can there be? Boys, they are all the same. Famous or Infamous.

After that disastrous short-lived affair with that human hose-pipe Chang, she made sure he knew what being with a real women was all about. It would've occurred even sooner, had that bushy-haired know-it-all Hogwarts-a-History on legs hadn't interfered. She despised her almost as much as she feared her. Her remarkable mind, her inquisitive nature, and her strong desire to protect the Potter boy served as a great impediment. He made sure to take her out early on with a well placed long lasting Imperius curse. A curse so imperceptible that even she didn't know she was under it. Only a very powerful wizard can cast a spell as strong and effective as that one, and of course, she is one. Of course, there was the usual side-effects of emotional instability and temporary insanity, but that can be attributed to a normal witch's growth and puberty. Plus, they never said the Granger girl wasn't out of her mind, especially when it comes to her precious Harry.

Harry, Harry, Harry...that's all she thinks about. She doesn't think anyone knows. I don't even think she knows how much she thinks about him, cares for him. It makes me sick. It takes a powerful Legimens to read her mind. Not that she has mastered Occlumency, quite yet, but a slight probe into her mind, she would immediate know. She would then try to fight it instinctively. It would become more difficult to read her mind the next time. Dumbledore knows, so do I. Even that overgrown bat Snape doesn't know. His mind is not yet powerful enough to venture inside someone else's undetected. They would always suspect or try to block him out, making it more difficult for him to find the truth. But, even then, I suspect he knows something. The way he sneers at the two of them, he tried to coated it with snide remarks, but underneath it all, the poor bastard actually sympathizes a lot with that bushy haired bookworm. How could he not, he himself was in the same position at that age with that mudblood Evans.

He begged me not to harm her. I almost relented. She was decent looking for a mudblood, but more importantly, if I wanted to control Snape, if I wanted any leverage over him, then I cannot harm that girl Evans. If I cannot have his absolute loyalty, then I would at least settle for absolute obedience, even if it is under coercion and constant threat. Evans was a great bargaining knut. Snape was as devoted to her as that mudblood Granger was to Potter. Teenage angst. Too bad their efforts are both futile. Evans ended up marrying the elder more annoying useless prick Potter and died a tragic young death. The younger Potter belongs to me or us should I say. I wanted his body, he wanted his mind.

Every single occasion Potter and I were together, he shows up in the background, much to my discomfort, orchestrating the whole affair. And with a cool sneer of superiority, he tells me how to please him, how to do and say just the thing to make Potter yearn for more. It was unpleasant at first, but I grew to trust his instincts. Afterall he is a powerful Legimens and an experienced lover; his sultry voice in the back of my mind guided my agile fingers with smooth expertise which pleasured Potter immensely. Who in turn returned his affections with raw passion and boyish enthusiasm. Seeing him in such a heightened state of excitement gives me a surge of pleasure. I alone, was the only girl so far to give him that much pleasure, along with that much pain of unfulfilled want and desire. Pity the filthy mudblood can't do what I can. Not even close. I can sense her hurt. She tries to brush it off as hormones and confusion. She even fooled herself into loving that laughable gluttonous buffoon of a best friend. It's no use. Her mind subconsciously always drifts back to Harry. She is hurt many times by his cluelessness. Who can blame him? Who would want her, when he can have me? She may care for him for all she can, but I have his body now and I will have his soul.

I hissed wantonly with desire as my sensual body slithered artfully on top of him. A thin layer of sweat beaded tightly on his thin muscular frame. His eyes darkened as his mind clouded with unfulfilled desires. I grinned wickedly like a Cheshire cat. Between the two of them and my new body's unusual sensitive nature, I was almost taken above and beyond the veil in multiple occasions. Droplets of sweat dampened my cool smooth skin. My skin tingles and all my senses are overwhelmed. Every nerve ending on my smooth soft silky skin fired continuously from every whisper to every caress. The room fills with a smell of wild flowers, damp grassy lawn, and something faintly pungent smelling, very old and sticky. I almost fainted with bouts of unfulfilled pleasure from these tireless trysts. I gave a low seductive hiss. My body writhed and rolled wildly as I struggled to regain control of myself. I cannot lose control. Lord Voldemort has not given me permission to lose control with the Potter boy. Every encounter is built towards the master plan, the greater good. I can now almost empathize with Bellatrix. He always tortures her to the point of no return, but never let her succumb to her deepest bodily desires. He leaves her panting and begging for mercy, for some release, but dangles the forbidden fruit just a bit out of her reach. It is time for Potter to learn such cruelty. Only then, can he fully commit to me, to us.

Lord Voldemort is a powerful wizard. He leads his army with dark arts of seduction and promise of worldly rewards. Of course, the constant threat of fear, death, and destruction always co-exist. He understands the most basic human desires more than anyone. He seduces some with promise of unlimited power, others with unlimited galleons, and Harry with bodily passion and desires, which he mistakes as love. I laughed. It's like I was made for this role, to bridge Harry to Tom. The sheer opposing but equally polarizing energy from two powerful wizards left me drained and wanting at the same time. Afterwards, Harry, confused as ever, would only blush clueless with faint embarrassment, whereas Tom would laugh tauntingly about how easy it was to manipulate Potter. He enjoys seeing Potter in the same defenseless state he enjoyed tormenting Bellatrix. He wants to see them at their most vulnerable and unguarded state. It makes him feel all powerful to know that he can reduce them to a simpering fool whereas he maintains in control with cool composure. I succumbed to the dark seduction of it all.

Where was once my conscience now resides a deep dark desire to please them. Harry with my body, and Tom with my soul. Tom never let's me get as far as I want with Harry. After all, Tom said, the secret to capturing men's interest is to lure him as far as you can without giving in. He doesn't want Harry to think I was a scarlet harlot. After all, Tom has greater goals for us than a few stolen moments by the lake or a few scandalous romps in a broom cupboard. The three of us are meant to achieve great things; we were meant to change the wizard world entirely, bringing a new era to wizarding society. Perhaps we should be renamed the golden trio instead. My tongue slipped furtively into his mouth and explored his warm dark cavern. A burst of sensation encompassed me as I shivered in ecstasy and tossed my wild mane; a familiar flowery smell intermingled with our senses. The dense aroma seemed to excite him further as his hands snaked down my curvy body. My body writhed and rolled in excitement as my tongue flickered in anticipation. This is way too much. My newfound senses are so much more powerful than any mortal wizard's. Defying the faint whispers and disapproval in the back of my head, I arched my limber body against Harry's, nimbly gliding past his smooth muscular chest and toned abdomen, boldly wanting to venture further to a place he and I had never explored...yet.

"Stop!" an angry hiss came from the back of my mind. I recoiled suddenly in shock and fear. The moment is broken. Harry as if waking up from a spell pushed me abruptly off his body. The flowery smell dissipated as Harry shook his head in confusion. I hissed in retaliation. I was so close to getting what I wanted. Neither Harry or Tom would ever allow me to go further. Harry, I assumed was being noble for some stupid reason, whereas Tom had his hidden agenda about the future of the wizarding world, or the Greater Good. Funny, that almost sounds like something Dumbledore would say.

The old fool is known to be cautious, meticulous, best wizard of the century, Order of Merlin First Class. Yet his biggest downfall is his noble spirit. He sees the good in everyone. Believes that all creatures are kind, humane, foolish and easy to manipulate through his tireless speeches and empty words of encouragement and optimism about the humankind. She must hand it to him, though, he had his ways. His soldiers are as blind and brainwashed as those suffering from the infamous Imperius curse. There are those willing to kill for him like Snape, and those who are even more idiotic who are willing to die for him like Potter.

A strong breeze escaped from the tiny crack in the bedroom window. The midnight air felt chilly. The dim candlelight flickered precariously. Death. The ultimate end to that foolish old man and those who followed his cause. He died painfully, suffering from months of poison from the ring, damaged severely by the demented potion from the cavern, betrayed by his students, killed by his faculty. What a horrible way to go. I laughed mirthlessly. And all this, for nothing. I wondered cruelly what he felt at that very moment as he flew down the Astronomy Tower. Perhaps like this? "Avada Kedavra!" I hissed, a shot of green light flashed as the candlelight flickered wildly before going out. The spider at the windowsill stopped moving at once. Darkness. Death.


	2. Chapter 2 The Awakening

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Just my imagination :).

Chapter 2: The Awakening

Not far away, a boy with striking green eyes woke up with a start. He had been dreaming such a nice vivid dream. He dreamed that he was much older, even older than his father from his memories. He was on the platform of Hogwarts Express 9 3/4, but instead of boarding the train himself as he had done for 6 years of his life, he was sending off his own children. Miraculous as the thought was, he cannot imagine how in the world the name Albus Severus had came up. Everyone ended up married and together in one big happy family, and he had named his heir after Severus Snape. Which in itself is such an abomination that no wonder he woke up drenched in sweat and shock.

Harry rubbed his eyes and yawned. Scrinting at the nearest mechanism resembling a clock, he noticed that the elf's long finger pointed half past five, way too early for anyone in the Burrow to be up. After the war, Harry and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had returned to Ron's family home, the Burrow to spend the summer. It was one of the most treasured time of his entire life. For once, he does not have the gloomy and ominous prospect of the Dark Lord over him. His life is no longer in danger. Voldemort had been vanquished and although they too had suffered losses, Harry and the majority of the wizarding world had survived. It was a time for celebration, a Golden Age, a time of rebirth for muggles and wizards alike.

Slipping on his glasses, Harry tiptoed past Ron's heavy snoring figure and retreated downstairs into the kitchen, making sure to make the least possible noise as to not wake the ghoul upstairs with spatterghoit. His stomach growled loudly in protest. Perhaps an early breakfast is in order, Mrs. Weasley always had plenty of leftovers in the ice-box. It was pitch black, Harry stumbled to the wooden banister. The smell of polished wood filled his nostrils leading him down the staircase. As Harry walked down the knobbly staircase making sure to skip the step that creaks, he noticed that he was not alone. Sitting beneath the single swinging dusty lamp, and looking tired and morose as ever was George Weasley, one half of the Weasley twins and Co-founder of the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. From nearby, an open window brought in a pleasurable morning breeze. The smell of freshly mowed grass drifted into the air. Harry stopped in his tracks. In his surprise, he had nearly stepped on Crookshanks, Hermione's large flat faced ginger haired tabby. Crookshanks hissed in protest and trotted off snootily, whiskers in the air. As happy as he had been about the end of the war, Harry had always felt deeply guilty when facing George. After all, his brother Fred had died right in front of their eyes. If losing a brother is bad, then losing a twin must be ten times worse. George had taken Fred's death worse than all the Weasleys. It was as if he had lost a part of himself that day. Maybe in a way, he did. He smiled much less, did not crack a single joke all summer and appeared to join them only in meal times. The rest of the time, he spent isolated either in his room, previously shared with Fred, now solely his or outside, where no one had any idea where he goes to mourn.

Sensing George was asleep in his chair, Harry was about to step back upstairs when he collided with someone rather abruptly. Someone in a dark night dress and slippers stepped into him and fell backwards. Harry, with lightning fast seeker reflexes, caught her arm rather quickly and pulled her back to her feet. It was his ex-girlfriend Ginny Weasley, the youngest of all Weasley children. Her flaming red hair tumbled loose in gentle waves due to the near fall. A familiar flowery smell intermingled with the morning breeze. In the dim light, her pale translucent skin glowed; she let out a small grin as she stepped closer to him. Harry flushed at the proximity; remembering faintly of their pastimes around the lake. His face reddened in embarrassment. Quickly he took a step back and muttered, "Sorry Ginny," her smirk on her face wavered for a flash of a second. She whispered "What? Are you afraid of Mum? They are asleep." She advanced slowly towards him. Her eyes darkened in excitement. Before she could take another step forward, another pair of fluffy slippers quickly entered into the landing. Crookshanks meowed happily and sauntered to the newcomer. Hermione stepped down the stairs. In her haste, she had forgotten to skip the creaking step. The loud creak echoed in the hallway. Hermione cringed and quickly looked around. All seems to be still. Harry grinned. Hermione has never been athletically gifted. Her bookish ways and brainy schemes seem to overshadow any possible talent in the area of sports and athletics. Nevertheless, it is her cleverness and intelligence that had gotten him through numerous trials with Voldemort. She remains to be one of the few people who dared to say his name. Even after Voldemort's defeat, few have been brave enough to utter his pseudonym. They all say that his name is jinxed, that whoever says it would face unfortunate consequences. Rumor has it that Stan Stunpike in a fit of courage had uttered only a syllable before erupting in boils and hives only days after. Although it also could be because a disgruntled Knightbus customer had accidentally spilled a bucket of bulbotuber pus on him. Most as the Daily Prophet summises, feared his return too much. His name alone is foreboding, makes his existence a terrible possibility.

"Morning," Hermione whispered, as if sensing she had interrupted a moment, she blushed faintly. "I woke up a little early for some light reading; Ginny wasn't in her bed. I came down to check and grab a mug of tea." Harry was glad the awkwardness of the situation had been diffused. Ginny, however, scowled, "I am perfectly fine Hermione. No need to follow me around. Some of us have more exciting lives. We don't need a babysitter." Hermione's blush deepened with a fleeting expression of hurt and something else. Harry quickly added, "We ran into each other a few seconds ago too; let's not wake up George." Harry and Hermione tiptoed in the the kitchen with Ginny following behind, still upset at the intrusion.

Harry went into the charmed ice-box and found a nice slab of leftover dessert from the night before. Meanwhile, Hermione, noticing George had stirred briefly from his slumber, had whispered a quick muffliato, before boiling water with her wand. Only Ginny remained aloof staring at Harry and Hermione with suspicion in her narrowed eyes. Harry, glad now that he can move around freely took a jab of the leftover pie with his fork. At the first taste, he smiled appreciatively to the heavens. For he can now enjoy all things without a worry in the world. The dark nebulous cloud looming over his head is gone. He is free at last.

Hermione flipped open an ancient rundown textbook. Moving images of highly complex wand work surfaced. Sparks flew over pages of parchment that had fallen out of the book. "Tasty Harry?" Hermione took a sip from her mug. Harry nodded, "Want some?" He gestured to Hermione and Ginny. Ginny shook her head in annoyance while Hermione silently cast a spell; a small piece of pie detached from Harry's plate and floated neatly to Hermione. Harry felt a surge of pride that Hermione had mastered non-verbal spells so quickly. Hermione took a bite and smiled happily, "It is delicious!" She exclaimed in surprise. "Very creamy; much better cold." "What is it, anyway?" Ginny asked crossly. "Sweet potato?" Hermione looked to Harry questioningly. "No." He replied, "It's pumpkin." With a grin of the looks on both girls' faces, Harry finished the last piece of pie with a swift chug of milk.

By the time everyone had woken up, the sun had already risen in the sky. Mrs. Weasley hummed along Celestina Warbeck's "A Cauldron of Hot Strong Love" as she merrily made breakfast. Cauldrons of warm porridge, self-baking toasts, eggs, bacon, and sausages danced in the grill. "Goodmorning dear, some breakfast?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly. "Sure, thanks Mrs. Weasley." Harry beamed. "Always so well mannered; we need to fatten you up a bit after last year. You three have lost so much weight." Molly fussed gently. "Arthur and Percy already left for the ministry." She added, "But poor George, he is still a bit out of spirits; but I-I'm sure he'll be f-fine. Perhaps he will cheer up once he goes flying for a bit." Mrs. Weasley tried to appear unworried, but the look of concern did not go unnoticed by Harry. He felt guilty at once. "And these came for you four this morning." Morning owl post had came along with their Hogwarts letters. Four thick envelopes with the Hogwarts emblem sat squarely in between the butter bowl and the self stirring cauldrons on the kitchen counter. Harry glanced at the letters apprehensively. Behind him, Hermione let out an exclamation of excitement. "Hogwarts letters!" Ron and Ginny hurried into the kitchen bringing tracks of mud and grass to the kitchen floor. "Ronald Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley glared angrily. "You are bringing in mud all over our kitchen floor! I told you to change out of your trainers after you de-grome the garden!" She went on to nag Ginny about leaving grass stains on the carpet. As they ripped open their letters fervently, only Harry held back apprehensively. For he had not discussed returning to Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione. Part of him wants to go back; after all, Hogwarts had been his first real home. He cherished his memories in the castle, every staircase, every corridor, even Peeves, the Poltergeist had been part of the many things he had missed. Yet another part of him realized that Hogwarts would be different this year.

Before he always had the prophecy and Voldemort to keep him driven and focused. After the war, only did Harry truly realize how much he had lost. It would be the first time that he would be in Hogwarts without Dumbledore. Previously, he was never given a proper chance to grieve. Now all of the bottled up emotions came to surface. How could he go back to Hogwarts knowing everything had changed? How could he stand to go back knowing Dumbledore will never show up to give the welcoming speech? Who would he turn to now? Harry slowly walked into the empty hallway. All of the sudden, the prospect of going back to Hogwarts sounded less and less appealing. Just as he was torn between indecision, a loud clatter of excitement filled the air. "Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, "Where are you? Come celebrate!" Harry hurried to the doorway. There being hugged by Ron rather tightly was Hermione. Hermione's eyes shined brightly as she saw Harry. She shook away from Ron and ran to him. Her arms arched over his shoulder as she embraced him. "We did it!" She said to Harry excitedly. "I'm Head Girl! You must be-" she stopped rather abruptly as she slowly turned back to look at Ron, one arm still looped over Harry's shoulder. A faint blush appeared on her cheeks. Ron looked pale as he stared stubbornly at the kitchen floor; a face with an unreadable expression. "I mean, you should open your letter; Harry!" Hermione said breathlessly. "Yes dear," followed Mrs. Weasley kindly. "Great news for everybody we hope; Ginny received 8 O.W.L.s with O grades in Charms and Potions!" Ginny beamed proudly and said, "Professor Slughorn went easy on me. Anyone in Slugs Club would've gotten an O." She sauntered over to Harry to receive a congratulatory hug barely grazing over Hermione, who let go of Harry at once.

As Ginny stepped into his embrace, Harry is at once overwhelmed by the same flowery smell he attributed to her presence many times before. Perhaps she has put too much on. What was previously a pleasant light smell turned horribly pungent. It has inundated all of his senses. He felt as if he was drowning in her perfume. Combined with the smell of muddy grassy stains on the carpet and decade old broom polish, Harry felt a little nauseous. Perhaps he looked a bit heady, Hermione immediately took a hold of his arm and led him to a chair. "Are you sure you're ok? Overwhelmed by the good news?" Her dark brown eyes narrowed in concern. "There may be more to come!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley handing Harry's letter to him expectantly. Harry mustered a smile and opened the envelope. At once, two heavy badges fallen out, along with his booklist and personal letter from the headmistress. One of the badges was familiar; a rusty red and gold lion crest with QC embroidered standing for Gryffindor Quidditch Captain landed in his palm. The other came as more of a shock. Seen very long ago, in their first year, when Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been tricked by Malfoy to a midnight duel in the trophy room. There shining brightly in yellow gold with the Hogwarts Emblem and HB engraved to the front, was the Head Boy badge. It looked exactly the way it did on that fateful night when Harry discovered that his own father James Potter had once been Head Boy. Harry swallowed in surprise. He had never thought that one day he would follow his own father's footsteps and become Head Boy. The revelation is too much. "I knew it! I knew it!" Hermione jumped up, her eyes dancing with delight as her messy hair fell to the side of her face, as if wanting to throw her arms all over him again. Ron remained resolutely silent showing no emotion on his face. Ginny glared in annoyance at Hermione and hurried to overtake her to Harry. Still in shock and quite a bit overwhelmed, Harry backed away from the oncoming crowd to read his letter from Professor McGonagall privately.

Dear Mr. Potter,

On behalf of Hogwarts and the wizarding world, we sincerely welcome you to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Due to the special circumstances, we have decided to reopen Hogwarts for our pupils who wish to continue their magical education. The castle has been undergoing massive restoration over the summer. Although there are still many changes ahead, we strongly urge you to join us in this exciting and turbulent time. Although evil has been vanquished, we must still unite together to rebuild Hogwarts to surpass its former glory. Here, I have enclosed your captain of Gryffindor Quidditch team badge as well as your badge for Head Boy. Warm congratulations for your well deserved accomplishments. Your parents and former Headmaster would've been very proud. We hope to see you in school on September 1st.

Sincerely,

Minerva Mcgonagall

Headmistress and Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Order of Merlin Second Class.

Harry looked at the badges in his hand. All of the sudden, he has no idea what he is going to do. Before receiving the letter, Harry was set on not returning to Hogwarts for his final year. After all, post war with much of the wizarding world damaged or destroyed, Harry feels more motivated than ever to start training to become an auror. He wants to help restore peace to the wizarding world and nothing was more important than that.

Before Harry could utter another word, Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "Oh Harry, how wonderful! You are going to be Head Boy and Quidditch Captain! A celebration is in order!" Ron silently left the room to no one's notice. Ginny charged forward, "Stop, Mum; Harry might not be going back to Hogwarts after all." Harry turned in surprise, for he had not voiced his thoughts to anyone out loud. Hermione too looked startled and said anxiously, "But Harry, it's Hogwarts, it is your home! You're bound to need your education no matter which field you go into, even auror-" she was swiftly cut off by Ginny, who responded coolly "Enough with your nagging Hermione; Harry can make his own decisions. Stop trying to interfere when clearly you're not wanted." Hermione flinched in surprise. Her eyes flashed over to Harry briefly with a searching expression. Before he can say anything, she turned sharply and she too left the room. Now only Molly remained; she said apprehensively to the rapidly dissipating joyful atmosphere, "So I guess I will start planning dinner then." She eyed Ginny with a curious glance that Harry doesn't recognize and bustled to the back garden, the crows of chickens echoing behind her.

Dinner was a noisy boisterous affair; charmed chairs are levitated out to the back garden. Fairy lamps glowed brightly on bushes and bambles. Gnomes playing hide and seek, nipping at toes and ankles under the table. Hermione sat opposite Harry next to Ron. Harry was squished tightly between Ginny and Percy. Arthur, in his best dress robes, proposed a toast to Harry and Hermione. "Wonderful news! How excellent Harry, Hermione. I'm so proud of you two. You truly deserve everything especially after what has happened this past year. We hope you will be able to enjoy your last year at Hogwarts." Percy was animatedly talking about new regulations in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. "Overflowing toilet seats! That's like yesterday's Daily Prophet! It's all about exploding trunks and aeroplanes-" Hermione unable to hold back her laughter, had spilled half of her lemonade on Ron, who in turn, knocked over a basket of dinner rolls, one of which hit Percy abruptly on his forehead, temporarily cutting off his speech. Ginny rolled her eyes in annoyance while Hermione dried Ron's sweater as Harry muttered a quick "Accio" so all of the dinner rolls zoomed back to the basket. He is still having trouble with non-verbal spells; he knew during his abysmal duel with Snape, he must not only learn how to duel silently, but also close his mind to his opponent. Crucial skills to have in order to survive a real duel, one not against Snape who is secretly on their side or with Voldemort whose wand cannot function properly against his own. He'll have to practice with Hermione and Ron before they leave for Hogwarts.

Harry sighed silently. The decision to go back to Hogwarts had been a difficult one. Hermione for one had been highly encouraging. Although Harry found it difficult, Ron had been resolutely quiet on the matter, not offering his opinion. He mumbled something about it being Harry's own decision, although Harry had caught Ron looking longingly at his Hogwarts badges more than once when he thought no one was looking. The most important decision had rested on his relationship or rather lack of with Ginny Weasley. After the war, Harry had assumed that he had wanted to rekindle his relationship with Ginny. He felt that without the threat of death and the imminent destruction of the wizarding world, he could finally start a real relationship. However, coming back to life from his near death experience, Harry found that a lot of his thinking had changed. The initial strong attraction to Ginny had waned. The chest monster had remained dormant all summer. Perhaps, he is in need of other male competition to truly grasp the degree of his affection for her. Then again, perhaps it is because of the past year. He and Ginny had not interacted much at all. True, he had thought of her during his hunt for the horcruxes. He had looked at her dot on the Marauders Map a few times to ensure her safety. However, whether he was doing this out of obligation or genuine affection remains a question. Harry, realized that as sad as it is, cannot truly say that he had loved anyone. Sure, he liked many people, including Ginny. He had respected and esteemed Dumbledore greatly. He had a tender and caring familial dynamic with Hagrid. He cherished his strong and trustworthy friendship with Ron and Hermione. But love? It is such a strong word; a word Harry is not sure he can characterize or describe. He supposed he had once upon a time felt such a feeling for his parents, only he cannot remember. Whatever feeling it had been had surely been stamped out by the Dursleys.

Harry looked at the gleaming badges on his dresser. He had been sure that he was not going back to Hogwarts. Yet the temptation of being both Head Boy and Quidditch Captain...the temptation of following his father's footsteps. The temptation of making _them_ proud...Professor McGonagall's letter resonated in his mind, _Your parents and former Headmaster would've been very proud_. Harry grinned subconsciously. What would his Mum and Dad want for him? Would they want him to leave Hogwarts a year early? (Without your N.E.W.T.s! Hermione's voice scolded playfully) He knew he has enough life experiences to last three decades at Hogwarts, but really, would Dumbledore feel appeased knowing that Harry decided the enter the real world without graduating from Hogwarts? The prospect of enjoying his final year at Hogwarts without any imminent threat of danger and death seemed all too sweet. There will be Quidditch, Hogsmeades visits, and more important things to worry about than Lord Voldemort and his evil schemes to take over the wizarding world...or is there?

As the long summer day dimmed into the starry night, Harry had not made up his mind whether he should go back to Hogwarts. He seemed to know what everyone else thinks. Hermione, for certain, would be going back, if not for her N.E.W.T.s alone. She has been persuading the both of them to follow her example as it would be wisest for all of them to graduate and finish their magical education together. Ron was at first exuberant about going back to Hogwarts, partially because of the fact that Hermione is. He has become particularly protective of her ever since their kiss in the Chamber of Secrets. Although their relationship has yet taken afloat or been made public, Harry can sense the tension between Ron and himself whenever Hermione is concerned. Harry's shook his head in despair; regardless of whether they are returning to Hogwarts, he senses that the trio will never been the same. He had the same inkling during the summer of his fifth year, when he saw Ron and Hermione had "holed up together" in Grimmauld's Place without him. The sight of them happy together without him was unbelievable. Harry felt a rush of anger at their betrayal. The idea of them together, the idea of them being happy without him made him feel undeniably jealous and left out. Harry sighed. He knew he wasn't being fair to either of them. It's not as if Ron and Hermione did not deserve to have their own lives. It's not as if their entire existence revolved around him and his foreboding quest with Lord Voldemort. They certainly have never discouraged or impaired his relationship with Cho or Ginny. However, for some reason, Harry feels that this is different. This is Ron and Hermione. His two best friends. Their potential union would make him feel that he simultaneously lost both of his best friends to each other. And he already feels that he doesn't have much, given the loss of his parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, and half of his friends from school and the order. An even more disarming thought went through his mind; what if it doesn't work out? Would their already tempestuous friendship survive anymore rows and fights? Would Ron and Hermione be able to sustain a long term relationship if they can barely sustain a healthy friendship? Harry felt sick to his stomach at these thoughts. The guilt of the knowledge that if Ron and Hermione had realized what he's thinking, they may never want to speak to him again. " _Selfish Harry_ ," a familiar voice whispered inside his head. He whispered a quiet "Nox" and drifted into uncomfortable sleep.


End file.
